


Ski trips on white fields

by dd_123



Series: Interludes [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Ch 20 of Family and Home, Families of Choice, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, Snow Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dd_123/pseuds/dd_123
Summary: An interlude set during Chapter 20 of LadyIrina's "Family and Home".Corin leads them away from the nearby village and popular sledding slopes, and towards the gently rolling landscape on the other side of the valley.  Each journey he makes with the child he takes them in a different direction, sometimes as far up and across the slopes as he can safely manage while pulling his precious cargo.  Today, however, he had decided would be a short trip, and the temptation of the untouched snow on the tree dotted flats calls to him.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Interludes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663186
Comments: 17
Kudos: 75





	Ski trips on white fields

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> On the more quiet days, Corin will wrap the child up in blankets and a cold-resistant sleeping bag, put him on a sleigh, attach it to his belt, grab some food and water, and brings him along on ski trips that lasts up to six hours. Din forces him to bring a communication device for those trips.  
> \- “Family and Home”, by LadyIrina (Chapter 20)

The child has learned the sleigh means a journey, and merely watches Corin with bright, fascinated eyes as he clips and tightens the straps securing it in its nest of warm blankets, intense concentration on his face. Carefully, he tucks little mittened hands under the sleeping bag and smooths down the woollen hat on its head, gentle fingers tucking its ears in. The air is crisp, and it would not do for those ears to get cold.

Footsteps crunching through the snow behind him alert him to Din’s approach. Corin brushes the snow off his knees as he stands and turns to face him.

A bag is held out in front of him. Corin takes it automatically and realises it’s heavier than he remembered it being when he packed it. A quick look inside reveals the water and packed food he had prepared earlier, along with an insulated flask and additional food. 

“Broth for the kid,” Din explains. “And some extra supplies. For if you stay out longer.”

He ducks his head and a spot deep inside his chest flares warm as Corin carefully closes the bag before hoisting its straps over his shoulders. He’s still not used to this care and concern. He doubts he ever will be. He clears his throat, pulls the last two straps across his chest and closes them together with a firm click before looking back at Din.

“Last chance,” Corin teases lightly while tightening the bag’s chest strap. “Are you sure you don’t want to put some skis on?”

“Skis and armour do not mix,” Din replies, deadpan. He reaches into one of his pockets, pulls out a communicator and holds it out to Corin.

Corin bites back a laugh at that image. As clumsy and wonderful as their time skating was, if Din’s precarious balance on the ice was any indicator, the Mandalorian would not have a fun afternoon attached to skis.

He reaches and allows his fingers to linger over Din’s gloved palm for a heartbeat before taking the communicator and tucking it into one of his pockets. 

“We won’t be long this time,” he promises. “I think there’ll be a flurry tonight.”

Din hums a noise of acknowledgement. When he reaches to pull Corin forward to press their foreheads together, Corin meets him halfway.

Din is the first to step back. “Go. Have fun with the kid.”

Corin grins and gives a mock salute, and laughs at the unamused noise that draws from Din. He attaches the sleigh lead poles to his belt, checking twice to make sure the lines are secured so he wouldn’t accidentally lose the kid. Satisfied with that, he pulls his goggles down snugly over his eyes and grabs the poles. It is quick work to line himself up his waiting skis, tap the snow off his boots and step into them with a firm click. With a final wave from himself and coo from the child, he pushes off.

\--

Corin leads them away from the nearby village and popular sledding slopes, and towards the gently rolling landscape on the other side of the valley. Each journey he makes with the child he takes them in a different direction, sometimes as far up and across the slopes as he can safely manage while pulling his precious cargo. Today, however, he had decided would be a short trip, and the temptation of the untouched snow on the tree dotted flats calls to him.

He is soon lost in the repeated movement of kick, push and glide. Muscle memory takes over, shifting him from one leg to the other effortlessly and the scrape and crunch of the snow underneath becomes a quiet background noise to their travels. The child is light, and the sleigh is well maintained, and Corin barely feels the drag as he keeps their momentum steady.

While Corin could travel for miles without pause, whenever he hears a restless noise from behind him he stops, and they break for a short while so the child can stretch and explore and play. The frequent stops slow his travels and would never have been permitted during his training, but he adores watching the child explore the winter at its own pace and looks forward to those moments together. 

Corin knows he was never very good at giving instructions, he’s always been better at following orders rather than giving them, but he tries anyway and uses these times to tell the little one everything he can about the one thing he knows most about. He keeps his explanations simple, describing how snow is made, about the many different types there are and any other titbits of knowledge that come to mind. The child stares up at him in concentration as he secures it back into the sleigh, today’s lesson explaining the shape of snowflakes.

“...and that’s why every snowflake is unique and very special.” Corin buckles the last strap, and gives the child a gentle bop on its nose. “Just like you are.” The child gives a happy squeal, grabs his finger and chirps away at him earnestly in reply. Corin can’t help but laugh and give that nose one last tap. _It’s almost as if it does understand_ , he thinks with amusement. 

Before long, they are on their way again.

\--

The sun has reached its peak as they arrive at a small clearing lined with snow dusted trees, and Corin decides it’s time for their midpoint break. He slows them to gradual stop, taking care not to jostle the child too much, then sets about releasing himself from his skis and lead poles. He shucks off the bag from his back, then busies himself pouring the still warm broth into a cup before carefully passing it over to eager little hands. The child has managed to somehow remove both mittens and hat, so Corin adjusts its blankets to keep it snug. Child taken care of for the time being, Corin settles into the snow beside the sleigh with a happy sigh, and rummages through the bag until he finds a food pack and a water bottle.

He drinks deeply, wipes his mouth on the back of his glove and pulls his goggles off. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the sudden non-tinted brightness, he savours the now vivid white surrounding him. Pure, clean snow everywhere, as far as he can see, the only blemish being the tracks from the skis and sleigh. It’s cold, and it’s clear, and it’s just perfect.

When he opens the food packet, his body reminds him with a sharp pang of hunger that it’s been hours since their morning meal. He eats quickly, barely finishing one mouthful before taking another bite, pausing just once take the mug from the child and replace it with a strap of dried meat. The child eagerly chews at it while Corin finishes his own meal and then shoves the empty packet back into the bag. As he goes to put the mug back as well, the child chirps and reaches to it. Huh. Corin indulges it, defenceless against wide dark eyes, and pours it a bit more of the broth. The child sips at it in a more sedate manner than its initial ravenous hunger, and Corin shakes his head at the contrast.

“Two mugs _and_ the jerky! You have the appetite of a Hutt. That’s Mose’s influence there,” he admonishes with a laugh. 

The child responds with a very familiar head tilt that cannot be anything other than deliberate. Corin laughs again, automatically turning to tease Din about the kid taking after him, words fading because, of course, Din wasn’t _there_.

And suddenly, just like that, Corin misses him. Misses his voice, his presence, just… misses Din.

The child coos, its ears twitching down. Corin shakes his head, forces his sudden flash of melancholy down, and smiles gently at the child. He reaches over and lightly traces a pointed ear. “Come on, green bean, drink that all up. Then you can have a sleep.” The child makes a noise in response, blinks slowly and takes another sip from the mug. Corin gives occasional soothing words of encouragement, keeping watch over the child as its eyes grow heavy and it continues to ever so slowly drink.

He absently runs his fingers through the snow, piling it and then smoothing it, again and again. Despite the pristine surroundings, and the contentment of just him and the child and the snow, the pang of missing Din washes through him again. He just… wishes he could speak to Din.

His fingers still. He _can_ speak to Din. He leans back, reaches into his pocket and pulls out the communicator.

Corin knows the communicator is there for emergencies, there’s no other reason for it, but surely Din wouldn’t mind if he used it to, well, communicate? He stares at it, worries his lip for a moment, then pushes down the doubt. He thumbs open the pre-set comm channel, waiting a moment for the click indicating the connection had been made. “Hey. You there?”

“Yeah,” Din replies immediately, and Corin blinks. That was fast. “Everything okay?” Corin can hear the crackle of the fire through the comm, the corners of his mouth upturning as he pictures Din beside it, cleaning and sorting through his never-ending supply of weapons.

“Yes! Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to hear something other than the kid’s slurping. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” A pop from the fire and Din continues, voice soft. “I’ve missed your voice today.”

Corin takes a measured sip of water to hide his fluster at those words and feels his face heat even as his smile grows. 

“Me too,” he admits, the new freedom to speak words like that still sending him off-balance. He looks up and his eyes trace the view in front of him. He lets out a breath before speaking again. “I wish I could show you what it’s like out here. It’s beautiful. Serene.”

“Beskar,” Din reminds him drolly. There’s muffled movement over the comm and the familiar creak of the lounge. “Tell me instead. How you see it.”

And Corin does. His words falter at first, stumbling over how to translate what he sees into language. But the more he speaks, the more he describes the miles and miles of pristine white surrounding them, the bite of the air mixing with the warmth of the sun, the peaks of the mountains in the distance and the clouds in the brilliant blue sky, and the utter serenity of the stillness surrounding him, the easier and softer the words become, and he realises that Din has been listening to each and every single word with silent attention.

Eventually, he runs out of words. Corin breaths the clean air in deep, lets it fill him, then releases it. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologise for his rambling, and starts when Din speaks first.

“Cin vhetin.” Din enunciates the Mando’a carefully and clearly. Corin mouths the words silently after him, trying to commit them to memory. “It literally translates to ‘white field’. Untouched snow.” There’s a pause before he speaks again. “It also means ‘a clean slate’.” 

_Huh._ Corin contemplates the words. _A clean slate. That… that would be nice._ He doesn’t realise he’d spoken aloud until Din replies with a quiet hum of assent. There’s silence after that, but it’s comfortable. Despite the distance, it’s almost like Din is right there beside them.

There’s movement in the corner of his eye, and Corin manages to lean and catch the empty mug as it falls from the child’s sleep-slackened hands.

“The kid’s fallen asleep,” he whispers down into the comm. “It’s been a big day for it. Lots of playing.”

“Are you coming back then?” More sounds of movement follow Din’s voice.

Corin looks over in the direction they’d arrived from, the grooves in the snow from skis and sleigh clearly visible. If he followed the same route back, with the child asleep and no breaks, they’d be back quickly.

“Yeah. We’re coming home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not fully happy with this, but it'll do.
> 
> I haven't seen snow or skied for over 15 years, and it probably shows.
> 
> Thank you, Miscellaneous_Ace, for helping give this a kick.


End file.
